Raging Within
by hashtag-not-moriarty
Summary: Post-season nine. Dean can't cope with what he has become, and Crowley doesn't know what to do about it. If only a certain angel wasn't locked in Heaven's dungeons - oh wait, he isn't.
1. Chapter 1

Dean sat up and rubbed his face.

"Crowley?!" He asked, clearly expecting his brother. "What the Hell are you doing here?"

"Ah. You didn't… hear any of that, then. Fabulous."

"Hear what?" He stood up, swaying a little. "Sam made a deal, didn't he? After all that BS about not doing the same for me… goddammit!"

Crowley huffed. "You think I'm really gonna make a deal with Moose? Keeping his soul in Hell would be more trouble than the satisfaction would be worth." He cocked his head and put his hands in his pockets. "Actually, you're probably right there. It would be quite amusing. Damn, I should've brought you back myself."

Dean shook his head, seeming unsure. "If you… who brought me back?"

"This was a lot easier to tell you when those sad little –" He looked at Dean's demon-black eyes and rephrased. "…Hands… weren't – for God's sake, can you not just _tell_?"

"No, Crowley. How on earth could I possibly 'tell' how I ended up not-dead?" There was one person he could imagine would do it, but… he was indisposed. Fuck that, he was locked up in Heaven at the whim of Metatron. Cas was lucky he was still alive.

"You don't feel it?"

"No. Where's Sam – I'd prefer to talk to him about this."

Crowley looked away. "It was Abel, alright?"

"I'm sorry?"

Crowley nodded at the blade in Dean's hand. "It was the Mark, technically, I suppose, but saying 'Abel' is much more dramatic than explaining – for the second time, I might add – that the Mark just couldn't bear to let you go."

"The Mark brought me back?" Dean frowned; he'd been hoping that dying would make it obsolete, not make it stronger. Now he thought about it, he could feel it burning in his bones – that urge to kill, to do wrong, to cause pain. "Did you know about this when you told me that it would kill me?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Again, for the second time, no. I didn't know. There were rumours, but they were started – well, as you can imagine, it was quite a bit before my time. I couldn't be sure it wasn't just that they were bored by the lack of humans to torture. But, Dean, there's something else we need to talk about. And we need to hurry up," he added, his eyes going red as Sam summoned him.

"What? I don't have time for this, I've still got to kill Metatron, since the Mark loves me too much to let me go."

"Oh stop the self-pity! So you're alive when you wished you weren't – didn't you put Moose through the exact same thing? Did you forget that the gates of Heaven are still closed, so you would just have found yourself in the Veil, watching your little brother create a bigger mess? You have bigger problems than being alive, mate."

"I know I have! Cas is locked up and Metatron –"

"The angels are no longer your concern, Dean."

Dean walked closer to the King of Hell, shifting his grip on the First Blade threateningly. "The angels are _always_ my concern, Crowley. Somehow, they manage to have more problems with authority than demons do."

"The correct phrasing there is 'than we do'." Crowley sighed, glancing at his watch.

"Excuse me?"

"Demons. We. We are both demons now. No more attempting-to-be-good for you. Now, I really have to go lie to your brother. Do your best to make a quiet exit, okay?" Crowley asked, disappearing before Dean could answer.

"Demons," Dean muttered to himself. They always lied. That's what demons did – they lied. Might as well switch 'demon' for 'liar', because that's what they did. Lied just for the fun of it. 'We'. Dean wasn't a demon. He couldn't be a demon. He'd spent decades in Hell without gaining even a spot of black in his eye. He was supposed to be Michael's vessel – the vessel of an angel of Heaven. He was the _last_ person who could ever become a demon.

So why was he afraid of calling out for Sammy?

* * *

"Moose. Long time no… oh wait. It could be centuries before I saw you next and it would only be long enough because it would mean you were no longer human. What do you want?"

"You know what I want, Crowley. Bring him back to life and I'll give you my soul. I want a deal."

"No offense, Moose, but you Winchesters don't often stick to your bargains, and getting out of Hell has become almost… routine for you. If we're going to make a deal, I want something that isn't going to run away from me." He frowned. "That sounded much more morose out loud than it did in my head."

Sam clenched his jaw. "What do you want?"

"I want a lot of things. A castle; portraits of myself; a woman to love. I'm a complicated man, Sam." Crowley paused, wondering how he was going to get out of this mess without explaining the truth. "But of course, what I want most in the world is Metatron's head on a spike."

Sam blinked rapidly. "Since when did you care about the angels?"

He shrugged. "There's only one angel up there who I'm on good terms with, and it's nice to have connections."

"Good terms?" Sam choked out a bitter laugh. "Cas can't stand you."

"But, unlike the rest of those pompous holy birds, he sees me as almost human. And that's good enough for me. So here's the deal: bring me Metatron's head, make Cas the Big Man, report back to me and I'll bring your brother back. I'll look after him until then – keep his body looking all spic-and-span for when the new God wants some fun." Crowley tried not to smile – he wasn't lying, he wasn't going to have to break his word, and he was keeping Sam busy for a few months while he got Dean accustomed to his new life. How was that for thinking on your feet?

"I can't kill Metatron without the First Blade."

"You Winchesters – no faith in your own abilities. I'm sure you'll find a way. Have we got a deal?"

Sam rubbed at his eyes, trying to hide the tears that imagining having Dean back created. "Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sighed as he stared at the demon trap that he'd almost walked into. He wasn't a demon – of course he wasn't a demon – but the Mark of Cain had definitely done _something, _and he didn't want Sammy to know that something was wrong.

Did Sammy even know he was alive? Crowley said that he was going to lie… but what about, exactly? Was he going to make up some miracle story about how Dean had lived? But if he was going to tell Sam that he was alive, why did Crowley want him to make a 'quiet exit'?

"Ah," Crowley muttered, materialising next to him and looking at the floor. _Speak of the devil. _"You learn quickly. I like you. Don't worry, I can get us both out of here, now Moose has finally let go of the spell. Come on," he added, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"No," Dean said, shrugging him off just a moment too late.

They stood in what could only be described as a throne room. The place was darker than a demon-hooker's bedroom (Dean still had nightmares about that night), but the throne in the centre was lit by about ten floodlights. It reminded Dean a little of the Iron Throne, and he wondered if Crowley had had a replica made.

"Not my work," Crowley said. "Abbadon didn't understand subtlety. Or self-awareness. Or policy. She didn't know much about anything that isn't macabre. It's on my list of things to fix, but, unfortunately, that's a very long list." He patted Dean on the shoulder. "Come on, big boy, let me show you around."

"You want to show me round Hell?" Dean asked incredulously. "Why?"

"Well, it's your new home, isn't it? I'm sorry you didn't get a viewing before you bought it but if you'd like to come this way…" He made an 'after you' gesture. And then repeated it. Dean didn't budge. "There are some things that I need to teach you, Dean, which cannot be taught anywhere but here. Now for the love of your stupid angel, let's go – unless you want some of my minions to notice a Winchester with black eyes roaming the cobbled streets of Hell? I'm sure they'd give your brother the news in the most delicate way possible."

"I don't need _you_ to teach me anything, Crowley." He strengthened his grip on the blade. He hated Hell. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he'd never gone to get Sammy from college – if maybe then he wouldn't have ended up as a torturer. Maybe, if he'd just done what Sam would have done and not gone looking for his dad, not got Sam mixed up in it all and then dead, not found himself in Hell, not refused Michael – Hell, there were a lot of things he could have done differently. Things he should have done differently. Things he could have done more carefully. He was still proud of what he and Sammy had done – shit, they'd stopped the _apocalypse _– but hindsight was a bitch.

"Being a demon isn't as simple as making deals and killing someone every once in a while, Dean. There are a lot of things I need to teach you. And I mean that in so many different ways." Crowley smiled, hoping to get a rise from the hunter-turned-demon. The funnier he kept it, he imagined, the less broken Dean's new life would make him.

"I'm not a demon."

_Denial. Great._ "You want proof, kid?"

"No," Dean said. If it had been anything else, he would have said yes, but he didn't want proof he was a demon. He didn't want Crowley using some crazy mind-trick to make him think he was more screwed up than he already was.

"Tough," the demon said, putting his hand back on Dean's shoulder.

"I said no."

Crowley shrugged. "We don't have to get to it straight away, if it makes you feel better. Why don't we go in there –" He nodded at an all-night diner. "And have a bit of lunch?"

Dean couldn't say no to food – never had and never would. "Fine. But don't think this is going to butter me up."

"I don't need to butter you up. Now, put these on." The King of Hell gave Dean a pair of sunglasses. "Just for me? It's one of my greatest fantasies, eating in an American diner with a handsome man in sunglasses."

He rolled his eyes but put the shades on, trying not to think too hard about why he was doing it.

They grabbed a seat at the back of the diner, away from anyone who might wonder what the cloth-wrapped bundle in Dean's hand was.

"What can I get you, boys?" a waitress asked with a smile that implied she'd give them anything they wanted.

"Nothing for me," Crowley said. "Dean?"

"Double cheeseburger and fries," he said with a nod and a wink, forgetting for a moment that she wouldn't be able to see the wink for the sunglasses. She seemed to get the idea, though, and bit her lip.

"Coming right up."

"Are you sure you want that cheeseburger?" Crowley asked. "Last time you ordered one you didn't even eat it."

Dean shrugged uncomfortably. "I wasn't hungry then. I'm hungry now."

The waitress came back, sliding the plate onto the table with a wink of her own. "If you need anything else, just holler."

He smiled and took a big bite of the burger.

And then resisted the urge to scream in agony.

He'd had bad burgers before – Hell, he'd had one that made him high and oozed goo – but none of them had been as awful as what he was eating now. It felt like the food was burning his mouth from the inside out.

"You might not want to swallow that," Crowley said with a straight face. "Salt does terrible things to a demon's digestive system."

Dean locked his jaw and swallowed the burger. He could feel it burning his insides as it went down his oesophagus. "I'm not –" He cleared his sore throat. "I'm not a demon. You just brought me to some dodgy diner to make me think that I'm allergic to salt."

"No, dumb-arse, I brought you to a normal-level-of-dodgy diner to prove to you that you're allergic to salt because that is exactly what demons are. Exactly what you are. I was hoping we could cut to the chase with this."

"I'm sorry?" Dean asked, finally wondering if everything Crowley had asked him to do was simply part of a plan to kill Abbadon.

"You're a demon that can kill anything, and I'm a king with a few problems in the servility department. The quicker you get over your little existential crisis, the quicker you can go back to doing what you do best: killing demons. Except this time, you'll be doing it on my authority, and putting the fear of Lucifer into every demon fool enough to disobey me."

"This was the plan all along, wasn't it? You knew what the Mark of Cain could do and you knew it would serve your own ends. Damn it, Crowley."

Crowley shrugged. "I didn't know, I hoped. One question: does this mean you admit you're a demon now? Can we get on with the merciless killing? I know you want to."

"I'm not a demon," Dean hissed.

"Do I have to get you a mirror? You have black eyes, Dean. You've got an urge to kill. You've got so many other things that we just need to unlock. You don't have to drive that stupid car everywhere now you're a demon – you can just pop up anywhere you like. Let me teach you how to be a demon, Dean. Let me show you a whole new world."

"No." He stood up and walked out of the diner, fighting the urge to run.

* * *

"Cas?" Sam asked, his hands eyes closed in prayer as he sat on the end of Dean's empty bed. "I don't know if you can hear me – or if Metatron has you locked up or what – but please. I need your help. Without Dean, I… hunting was always his gig, not mine. I've tried so many times to do this alone, but I can't. Not after everything that's happened. So please, Cas, as Dean would say, get your feathery ass down here. If you can. Okay. Thanks." He opened his eyes to see a broken-hearted Castiel standing before him.

"You called, Sam?" Castiel's voice was broken, his posture stiff.

"Are you alright, Cas? You look a bit the worse for wear."

"My best friend died, you jackass. Of course I'm…" Cas sighed. "I am sorry, Sam. That was indelicate of me. If you called me here for help getting rid of Metatron, you don't need to; we have him locked away now. He can do no one anymore harm, although many people wish that they could do _him_ harm." He clenched his fists.

"That's great news!" Sam said with a grin. "Let me just summon Crowley –"

"What? What have you done, Sam?"

"I made a deal. Crowley said he'd bring Dean back if I could get Metatron out of the picture. We're going to get him back, Cas!"

Cas frowned. "Why would Crowley want to get rid of Metatron?"

Sam shrugged. "Does it matter? He said he'd bring Dean back."

The angel looked dubious but nodded. "Summon him."

Sam took Cas into the bunker's dungeon and set up the summoning spell. "Where's Gadreel?"

"He's dead," Cas said stoically.

Sam just nodded, trying to hide his contentment with that fact, and started the summoning.

"What do you want now, Moose? I'm kind of busy right now." Crowley blinked in shock. "Cas. How lovely to see you."

"Metatron has been impeached. Sam tells me that this means you must bring Dean back."

Crowley shook his head. "That's not quite what the deal was. Where did you get the wings, Cas?"

"I don't know what you mean, Crowley," Cas said.

Crowley looked to Sam for help. "Don't tell me you didn't notice how quick he got here. He got his wings back – or at least, he got someone's wings back. Want to tell us how that happened, Castiel?"

Cas looked away, uncomfortable. "There is… a ritual that can be done. Hannah insisted on it. She believed it would help me to retain my grace if I had wings. She said that there were angels who thought Metatron should be punished in the same way that he punished us all, and that if I wanted to keep the masses quiet, this was something I would have to do. For the record, neither of us liked the idea."

"Didn't stop her advocating it – or you from doing as she said." Crowley whistled. "You're whipped, Castiel."

"Are you going to bring him back or not, Crowley?" Sam asked.

"I asked for Metatron dead and Cas as the new God. Is that too much for you?"

"Metatron can no longer bother anyone and Cas apparently has _wings_ again." Sam sighed. "How about you give us Dean back, and we finish the rest of the bargain?"

"Because I did not agree to this, Sam," Cas said. "And I do not believe that Crowley can do anything for your brother."

Crowley shrugged. "I can and I have – he's sat in a nice little corner of Hell just waiting for you two idiots to do what I asked. As soon as you bring me Metatron's literal head and proof of Cas' new-found royalty, he'll be straight up here to eat pie and do whatever it is that you three do."

"I don't believe you," Cas said.

"Then it's your –" Crowley paused as an idea popped into his head. _If Cas can kiss Meg, he can live with the changes in Dean. And if he can help him get used to them… _"You know what, Castiel? Since you're my favourite angel in all of Heaven, I'll let you come down and see him. Then you can come back up here and reassure Moose that his brother is fine. How about that for a deal-sweetener? Don't say I don't give you boys anything."

Cas looked away, then at Sam, and then at Crowley. "I have enough grace left to stop you from doing anything stupid, Crowley."

The demon rolled his eyes and grabbed Cas' arm. "I'll take that as a yes."


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley took his hand from Cas' arm and subtly brushed it on his trousers. "There's something we need to talk about before you see him."

"What, Crowley?"

"I didn't bring Dean back. Not really."

Cas set his jaw. "If you have his soul here in Hell, Crowley, I will bring all of Heaven down on you."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Calm down. He's alive; I just didn't make him that way. I need you to realise that – it's not my fault."

"What are you talking about? Take me to him, Crowley."

The demon put his hands up. "Okay, okay. He's in there." He gestured to a room with an iron door. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Cas shook his head and walked into the room. "Dean, are you –"

"No." Dean got up from the sofa he'd been sat on and walked to the back of the entirely black room. "I don't want to talk to you right now, Cas."

Cas stared at the familiar figure, who was wearing his usual plaid and jeans, shoulders hunched and face turned away. He was alive. "We thought you were dead, Dean. What did Crowley do to you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Everything is fine."

Cas shook his head. "It very clearly isn't, Dean." He walked forwards. "Dean, look at me." A fear began to play at his mind.

Dean sighed. He didn't want to face the angel, because facing him meant truly getting proof, because Cas would be able to see from his face if he was a demon. And he'd probably kill him if he was.

But that would be better than living as one. He turned around slowly, watching Cas' face carefully. The angel flinched.

"Dean?" he asked.

"Yes, Cas. It's me." Dean pushed away the hatred for himself that had slowly been building up since he was brought back to life by the Mark. He was a demon; Cas' expression was proof of that. But Cas would free him.

"Your face…" Cas shook his head, eyes wide. "What has Crowley done?"

"It was the Mark." He shrugged. "Well, that's what that dick said, at least."

Cas lifted his hand up, as if he was going to touch Dean's horrific face to check it was real, but quickly lowered his hand. "If it was the Mark, then we'll have to find a way to get rid of it. Did Cain know of a way?"

Dean shrugged. "If he did, he didn't say so. But… Cas… I'm – I'm a demon now." He shuddered in disgust at having to say the words. "I'm one of the monsters we fight."

"We can fix this, Dean. We can fix this."

"How the Hell are we going to fix it, Cas? I'm a demon with a fucking tattoo and a jaw bone that bring me back to life! How can we fix this?"

"Like we always do, Dean," Cas said, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Together."

The hunter grunted. "Like the time when you asked for our help to get rid of Raphael, right? Or the time when you asked for my help when Naomi had you? Like that?"

Cas squeezed his shoulder. "I'll ignore that, Dean, since you are no longer yourself."

"If you're not going to help me, Cas, then just go."

Castiel cocked his head. "But Dean, I was offering my help. I do not understand."

"I don't want your help to 'fix it', Cas. It can't be fixed."

"Then… what did you mean, Dean?"

He looked away. "It doesn't matter, Cas. Just go."

Cas frowned. "I will help you in any way I can and any way you wish."

"Will you, Cas?" Dean looked into the angel's eyes for the first time. "No matter what I ask of you, you'll do it?"

"Of course, Dean. Anything you need."

"Anything? You promise?"

"Yes. What do you need, Dean?"

Dean took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that the angel _would_ do this for him, if he was just brave enough to ask. "I need you to do what we do; kill demons. Kill me, and do it in a way that'll make it impossible for me to come back."

Cas just stared at the man, open-mouthed. "Dean…"

He nodded. "I know you're running out of grace, so this is selfish of me, but please, will you do this for me? I can't live like this, Cas. You don't know what it feels like, to have this… this _urge_ running through me to kill. I need it. If I don't kill something – I can feel it tearing at my bones."

"You can kill vampires and other monsters, like you've always done. And then we'll fix this, and it will no longer be a problem."

"You don't understand – we can't fix this. Even if, somehow, we find a way to get rid of the Mark, Sam will try to save me, to turn me human again. And if he does that, it might kill him, Cas! And that would kill me."

"I can't kill you, Dean."

He punched the wall with a growl. "Help me, goddammit."

"I can't."

"WHY NOT?!" Dean screamed.

"BECAUSE I NEED YOU!" Cas caught his breath at what he had said and fumbled for a lie to cover it. "I was able to get out of Heaven's dungeons thanks to Gadreel's honourable sacrifice, but Metatron is still out there, and he's still incredibly powerful. I can't do this without you… and the blade."

Dean blinked rapidly. "You're telling me that you won't do this… because of Metatron? Really? I don't know if you've noticed, Cas, but I already failed once at that particular hurdle."

"There is no one else, Dean." Cas didn't want to lie to his friend yet again, but if it meant getting him out of this state of self-hatred and giving him a purpose… well, Cas would lie through his teeth. "I'm sorry, but I can't… do as you wish until Metatron is dead. " He cringed inwardly; perhaps that was too much of a fabrication for the hunter to buy.

"Dammit, Cas." Dean shook his head. "Do you _swear_ that you'll help me after this?"

Cas nodded. "I swear, Dean."

"Then what do you need?"

Cas paused, trying desperately to think of something that wasn't actually killing Metatron that would keep Dean busy. "I need you to find some ingredients for me. For a spell that may weaken Metatron's connection to the Angel Tablet. I would look for them myself but I am supposed to be in hiding."

"What ingredients?"

"I'll write them down for you," Cas said, taking a pad of paper and a pen from his pocket and scribbling down the most rare things he could think of. _Angel tears, blood of a dragon, quartz from the deepest mine of Hell… _"There you go." He ripped the page out and handed it to Dean, who whistled in a way that seemed almost normal.

"This is some pretty hard-to-find stuff, Cas. This is going to take me a while."

"Pray for me when you've found it," Cas replied, turning back to the big iron door.

"What if… I need to… if the Blade…"

The angel paused. "If you need to kill?"

"Yes," Dean said in a choked voice.

"Get Crowley to help you with your search. I'm sure he'll be happy to find something for you to kill – just make sure you specify that they can't be human. Goodbye, Dean."

"Bye, Cas."

The angel strode straight to where Crowley was standing, leaning against a wall casually. "He is a demon, Crowley."

"I'm aware of that," Crowley said with a smirk. "He didn't ask you to kill him, did he? He's been doing that all day. Wait, you didn't kill him, right?"

"No, Crowley, I didn't. I told him that I needed him to help me weaken and kill Metatron."

"You lied." The King of Hell grinned. "Bad angel."

Cas ignored him. "You will need to watch him to make sure he doesn't kill innocents. Hinder his progress if you can. And if he feels the need to kill… I'm sure you will be able to give him demons to make an example of." He gave Crowley a knowing look.

"What do I get out of this?"

"What you wanted in the first place, you ass." Without waiting for a reply, Cas left the filthy denizen of Hell.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Apologies for the short chapter and the long wait – exams and block have got on top of me, but hopefully that won't be the case for long.**

"Is he okay?" Sam asked as soon as Cas materialised next to him. The angel blinked, unsure what to say.

"Your brother…" Cas looked away, focusing on the book shelves. "Crowley is keeping to his side of the bargain. We should too."

Sam frowned. "What aren't you telling me, Cas? Is Dean alright? Is Crowley torturing him? Is he even alive?"

Cas looked away. Lying to one Winchester was one thing, but lying to both? Dean was going to kill him, but Sam deserved the truth. "One of the… side effects of the Mark is that it can bring those that carry it back from the edge of death."

"Oh." Sam nodded. "So… Crowley isn't the one that brought him back – we don't have to do what he wants. That's great news." He didn't look pleased, though – it was if, Cas thought, the younger Winchester knew that that wasn't all.

"The Mark doesn't just bring carriers back to life. It…" He shook his head. He couldn't do it, couldn't say the words now that he was away from that infernal place. He couldn't keep the image of Dean's distorted, ghoulish face from his mind. A tear ran down his cheek, and he wiped it away mulishly. It had been a long time since he'd cried.

"Cas? You're kinds worrying me."

The angel shook his head. "Dean is… he's…"

Sam sighed, and looked down at the book he had open on the table. "He's not a demon, right? Please tell me that he isn't."

"How did you know?"

He tapped the book. "I've been reading as much about the Mark as I can, ever since I found out about it. I wasn't sure if death would get rid of it, so I continued researching it, and…" He wiped a hand across his face. "I finally got to the good bit. It says 'Cain's Mark can bring one back from mortal injury, but it has been speculated that, if one were to hold the Mark when human, one would not be brought back without harm. Many of my colleagues suggest that this 'harm' would be a transition into a demonic state.'"

"Does it say anything about how it could be undone?"

Sam scanned the next few pages quickly. "No. It doesn't."

Cas clenched his jaw to stop himself doing or saying something he would regret. "I have sent Dean on a wild angel chase –"

"Wild angel chase?"

He nodded. "It's like a wild goose chase, but instead of a goose, he is chasing an angel."

Sam smirked. "You don't chase geese on a wild goose chase, Cas."

The angel frowned but continued. "I am keeping Dean busy for his own sake. We need to find something to get rid of the Mark before he realises what I am doing. Then we will have to talk him into allowing you to return him to his humanity."

"Allow?" Sam looked pale. "You mean… he doesn't want to be human anymore? Has becoming a demon really changed him that much?"

Cas swallowed, looking at the books again. "He no longer wants to be anything. We need to save him quickly, Sam."

"Cas!" Sam exclaimed, used to the angel's speedy exits and resolved to keep him in place for a moment. "Your grace… would you like me to research a way for you to get it back, as well? I don't know if the Men of Letters will have anything, but it's always worth a try."

He shook his head. "Dean is our priority. We need to find a way to save him."

"But you could die without your grace, Cas. As much as I hate saying it… Dean can wait a while."

"He _asked me to kill him_, Sam. Crowley said he's been asking _all day_. Planning to kill Metatron for me seems to have calmed him a bit, but it won't last forever."

"Neither will you."

Cas looked down at the floor, trying to find the right words. "Sam, did you not hear what I just said?"

Sam nodded. "But I'm going to need your help getting him out of Hell, if that's where Crowley's keeping him, because I don't imagine we're really going to kill Metatron."

"He never wanted Metatron. He wanted Dean killing demons who have been disloyal. I've given that to him. You won't need me to get him out of Hell."

Sam looked at him with an expression that knew too much. "If Dean's doing Crowley's bidding and making examples of demons, is he ever going to want to give him up? Wouldn't that be bad for his image, to lose his assassin?"

The angel looked away. "If you could save Dean or me, who would you choose?"

"Dean. But I don't have to choose."

"You do. If you love your brother, you will choose him." Cas sighed. "I am going to go watch over him and make sure Crowley doesn't have him doing anything stupid. Call when you have any news on the Mark." A flutter of feathers, and the angel left the bunker.

Sam sighed and lifted the book about the Mark up, sliding another one out from underneath it. The cover read 'The Angelic Form'. The hunter tapped it and then opened it to where he had stopped reading. If he had to choose, he'd choose Dean – but keeping his brother alive meant choosing Cas too, no matter what the angel said.


	5. Chapter 5

Cas watched Dean as his hand began to shake. It had taken him too long to find him – it was going to be too late.

"I just need the blood, okay?" he said to the pot-smoking shop owner. "Give me that, I'll pay you, and then I'll be gone. I won't come back again."

"I don't sell to no demons," the shop owner said lazily. "I don't need to. I have Abaddon's protection, as long as I only sell to stupid humans who don't know what they're buying. And so that's who I sell to."

"Well I've got news for you," Dean growled, "The bitch is dead; long live the new-old one. I don't know what Abaddon wanted you for, but I imagine Crowley is less than eager to keep you alive, so give me the blood."

The shop keeper paled and handed over a small vial.

Dean smiled tightly and walked out. Cas followed, making sure he was invisible, even to Crowley, who was leaning against a wall outside.

"Is that everything, champ?" The demon asked.

"Nearly. We need the tears of an angel, but Cas can give us those." Dean's voice was clipped. "But I need something else first."

Crowley smiled. "Of course. I have one of Abaddon's most heartless followers sat in a holding cell just outside Ann Arbor." He put a hand on Dean's shoulder and Cas left, beating them to their destination by just a few moments; he remembered this place from when he had been foolish enough to work with the King of Hell.

"Where is he?" Dean asked loudly, gripping the Blade Crowley had just handed him tightly.

"Take the first left and it's the second cell on the right," Crowley said. Dean was moving before the demon had got half of his directions out, but it didn't matter – any one of the demons in cages could do with a bit of a messy death. "This is going better than expected, don't you think, Cas?"

Then angel made himself visible. "How did you know I was here?"

"I knew you wouldn't trust me to keep him on the straight and narrow; you had to turn up sometime. And if that sometime wasn't now, well, I'm not unused to talking to empty rooms."

"Why not just keep the demons in Hell?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Because they're demons, genius! They know how to get out of Hell. Michigan, however… even_ I'm_ not quite sure how to get out of Michigan."

Cas sighed. "How is he?"

"He is the Dean you know and love, as always – oh, there is the incredibly high bloodlust, too, and his inability to keep any food down. I thought at first that it was the Mark that made him struggle to eat, but now I think it might be that the food reminds him that he doesn't have to eat it anymore. But he's fine. Absolutely fine."

Cas heard Dean's footsteps and went invisible again, straightening his trench coat; Dean didn't look fine. He looked paler than any demon should be, and his eyes – when not black – were empty and soulless. Unsurprisingly.

"Shall I call Cas?" Dean asked. It made the angel flinch to hear him look to Crowley for support, but the demon seemed unphased. Was this something that happened often?

"I don't think you need to."

Cas made himself visible. "Have you found all the ingredients for the spell?"

Dean frowned. "What are you doing here, Cas?"

"I came to check on your progress. I can only run for so long before I am found."

"I have everything but the angel tears, which you can get yourself," he said gruffly.

Cas shook his head. "I don't have enough grace for it to work. That is why I gave you the job, Dean."

"Aren't all the angels upstairs preening at Metatron? Where am I going to get angel tears from?"

"Not all of them stand with Metatron. Some of them found a love of humanity and stayed on earth. They will be hunted down eventually, I imagine, and sacrificed as examples. But now they are hidden. Find one and ask for their tears." Without another word, he made himself invisible, adding the audible flutter of wings to make it seem like he had left.

Dean grunted and punched one of the walls. "Goddamn it!"

Crowley looked uncomfortable for what had to be the first time in his life. "I'll get someone looking for angels. It won't take long."

"And how are we going to get their tears off them, exactly?"

Crowley shrugged. "Sit them down and make them watch _Titanic_, I suppose. I'm sure we'll find an amenable one."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Crowley, but angels don't tend to be 'amenable', whatever the Hell that means, to _demons_."

"Don't whine, Dean. It's not like you're unused to difficult situations. If you can kill Leviathans with cleaning products then you can get a few tears from an angel."

"But it's going to take longer."

"Castiel can look after himself."

"I'm not worried about Cas. But the longer this drags on, the longer it is before he gives me what I want."

Crowley raised his eyebrows. "Well, I wasn't expecting that. But if you need someone to… satisfy your needs—"

"Shut up, Crowley. That wasn't what I was talking about."

"Oh, is this the whole 'dying' thing again? And there I thought that I was going to win my bet with Meg. Not that it matters now, of course, but she always was certain nothing would happen between you two."

Cas sighed; Crowley evidently knew what buttons to press on both of them. Meg's death was still painful.

"Let's just get going," Dean said. "I want to wrap this up."

* * *

Sam's head dropped, and his eyes shot open in surprise. He'd been about to fall asleep on the books again, but he couldn't stop reading. He'd found nothing new on how to get rid of the Mark – had exhausted every demonic book the library held from around the time of the demon cure with no luck – but he'd found thousands of books about the grace of angels. He hadn't expected the Men of Letters to do much to document angels because they weren't exactly friendly with humans even before the Apocalypse, but it seemed to be the Men of Letters' favourite subject.

Sam looked back down at the book he'd been reading before his eyes started drooping. It was called _The Angelic Order_, and suggested that God created pairs of angels with matching essences, so that if one had its grace lost, it could be replenished by their partner's. It quoted some vague statement in the Bible as its proof but otherwise seemed legitimate – it wasn't the only book to suggest the theory, and Sam thought it was worth a try.

Now all he had to do was work out who Cas' angelic partner was… and hope that they hadn't already been killed by one war or another.


End file.
